


New Son

by Kale-y (PechoraFlow)



Series: Promptober 2020 [13]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Big Brother Gavin Reed, But also, Canonical Character Death, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor and Gavin are depression buddies, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings, Gavin Reed Backstory, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gavin Reed Not Being an Asshole, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gen, Good Protective Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It/Its Pronouns for Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Minor Original Character(s), POV Gavin Reed, References to Depression, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed Friendship, Warning: when I say Graphic Depictions of Violence I mean it, and eventually, at first, bc I want a depression buddy and I dont have one, but again it's brief, but they're just goons, it's brief but it's a little gross, part one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PechoraFlow/pseuds/Kale-y
Summary: Gavin Reed used to like Hank. Used to understand him. But then, Hank went and adopted a plastic. He's not the same guy that recruited Reed way back when.But when Gavin is kidnapped while on a stakeout with the plastic, he finds himself wondering if Hank's change of heart wasn't so crazy after all...---Prompt: Red
Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Gavin Reed
Series: Promptober 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947931
Comments: 15
Kudos: 148





	New Son

Gavin used to like Hank.

He wished he could say he still liked him.

At the precinct, it was no secret that Gavin had grown up in a broken home. His parents separated when he was young - young enough to blame himself for their divorce, old enough to remember the fighting.

He could remember the stark differences between his father’s home and his mother's very clearly. His mother had remarried fairly quickly and had moved in with her business partner, Jacob Kamski. Kamski had a son of his own - Elijah, the prick.

When Gavin had first heard of Elijah, he thought they would be fast friends; Elijah was only a few months older, after all. However, Elijah had quickly become the center of attention in the family, and Gavin had dealt with being pushed out of the family with becoming more and more reckless - getting into fights, sneaking out at night, going into clubs he technically wasn’t supposed to be allowed into…

Anything was better than staying in that stuffy apartment with people that acted like he was a stranger.

His father’s house had no more love to spare. Gavin’s elementary school days were full of belts and beatings, scrubbing the smell of alcohol from the living room carpet, and lying about his black eyes to his teacher. His high school days weren’t much better. The house was full of yelling and constant noise, and while he did resist his father’s “discipline” attempts, he still went to bed with bruises. Even though he was bigger (and louder), something in him made him not fight back.

Teachers at school went along with whatever excuse he made up.

His mother was too busy with her job to notice - or, worse, she didn’t care enough to intervene.

And Eli? The damn prick always had his nose in a book. And anyway, he forgot all about Gavin when he left for college at the end of Gavin’s sophomore year. At least, he _assumed_ Eli forgot about him. He never called, he never asked their parents to pass along a message...

Nobody bothered with him, so he didn’t bother either.

That is, nobody bothered until Hank Anderson.

If someone asked Gavin what crime he had committed that would warrant an actual ride in the back of a police car, he wouldn’t be able to recall. He must have been high. Or drunk. Or some dangerous combination of both.

But he could remember Hank pulling the car over by a small, roadside ice cream shop. The officer got out of the car, bought two chocolate milkshakes, and gave one to Gavin after unlocking his handcuffs.

Hank sipped from his milkshake. “You gonna keep doing this?”

Gavin said nothing, drinking from his own cup and pointedly ignoring him. He could feel Hank’s eyes scrutinize him. He had a feeling the officer saw more of him than his own _parents_ did. The thought sent a wave of discomfort through him.

“You’ve got a novella of a rap sheet already, kid,” Hank said. “But, I’ll tell you what. You join the police academy, I’ll get my friend to scrub your record.”

 _That_ caught Gavin’s attention. He glanced over at Hank, trying to appear uncommitted. “Why? What do you get out of it?”

“We’re short-staffed,” Hank said, leaning comfortably against the open car door. “Nobody wants to join the police anymore - public service isn’t as appealing, I guess. I dunno. But crime’s going up, and until they can find a legal use for that Thirium stuff, we’ve gotta keep it off the streets. We still need good detectives, good men and women to serve on the force.”

Gavin huffed an unamused laugh. “Nice try, pops. You don’t know me. I’m not…” _a good man. “_ I’m not interested.”

“Any other lie I would have believed,” Hank said, leaning forward, “but I saw you freeze up just a second ago. I think I know you better than what you’re used to, and I think you’d thrive at the precinct.”

Gavin said nothing.

Hank leaned back and returned to his milkshake. “And, you won’t have to pay. My department will sponsor you, so long as you join the force and work for us for a few years after.”

Gavin swirled his straw in his milkshake. “I don’t have my high school diploma yet.”

“How much longer?”

“Four months.”

Hank grinned at him. “I’ll keep the position open.”

And so, four months later, with the Detroit Police Department as his sponsor, Gavin left his mother’s house one night and never went back. He knew she would wonder, but she wouldn’t shed a tear; if she didn’t worry about him when he showed up with a busted lip or bruises on his wrist, then she shouldn’t worry when he wasn’t her problem anymore.

The first day at the academy, he had met Tina Chen. He still remembered her first words to him with perfect clarity. “Hey, asshole. We gonna have a problem?” He couldn’t remember what they were fighting over - Tina probably could; she was _super_ pissed - but the time they spent cleaning the mess hall for punishment made them fast friends for the rest of training.

Six months flew by, until finally, he graduated with Tina. Neither were top of their class, but they were dedicated and hardworking. Gavin stood next to Tina, saluting in his officer’s uniform as Hank grinned at him. “Welcome to the force, Officer Reed.”

Gavin returned the smile.

He progressed through his job quickly - knowing the bad parts of town and the protocol for drug deals helped him immensely, and he was dedicated to the point of being obsessive. Fowler had just made detective, which caused a lot of grumbling from Hank - something about being “first in the class and _still_ can’t beat Jeff”. It didn't matter that Hank was promoted within a few months, it was still a sore point for Hank that Fowler teased him relentlessly for.

Gavin knew that, if he played his cards right, he could advance quickly - maybe not quickly enough to catch up to Hank, but quickly enough to get _pretty damn close_. Realistic or not, it’s what kept him doing late hours, jumping to be one of the first responders, and even applying for the SWAT team at one point.

With Tina as his partner, he responded to all types of situations, meeting people both pleasant and unpleasant in his daily work. The weight of his newfound responsibility was a comforting presence on his shoulders - a welcome change from the dreary ache of depression that he had grown so used to dealing with in high school. Sure, there were still bad days, but his benefits allowed him to actually buy proper medication. It was no longer the beast that it had been for so long.

He was on a lunch break with Tina when the news finally hit.

Something caught Tina’s eye and she frowned. “Hey, Reed… What did you say your brother’s name was?” Gavin frowned, then turned to look at what Tina was staring at.

And then immediately wished he hadn’t.

A picture of his step-brother was plastered on a digital billboard, but he looked _so different_. The Elijah that had left home for college four years ago had the most awful haircut, was too wrapped up in whatever he was doing to look up, and had a wardrobe of hoodies and band t-shirts, exclusively.

The board featured another personality entirely. Elijah’s eyes looked upward, confident and ambitious (and still as much as an arrogant prick as he had been four years ago, Gavin was _sure_ of it). He wore a suit, and his hair was neatly trimmed and styled. The words “Man of the Future” were emblazoned under his feet in bright blue, with his name, "Elijah Kamski - CEO of CyberLife”, labelled by his shoulder.

"The hell is that all about?” Tina asked.

Gavin turned back to his lunch. “Fuck if I know.”

They returned to business as usual for the rest of the day, but as soon as Gavin went home, he looked up his step-brother. Apparently, while the asshat was away at college, he developed a sophisticated AI that he put into a robot he built. Or something like that. The article Gavin found was mostly technical jargon. Something about a new use for Thirium and a new company he had started for mass production of androids - CyberLife.

Elijah had never been invested in people. Gavin knew that much first hand. It would make sense that he would be the one to create androids that passed the Turing Test (whatever the fuck _that_ was).

He did his best to forget about Kamski, and there were plenty of distractions.

Hank got married and invited him to the wedding, with Fowler as his best man.

Tina kept dragging him to different restaurants with the goal of trying _every_ dish in Detroit before one of them got shot. (A weird deadline, but they almost managed it.)

A new drug was developed from Eli’s formula - Red Ice. Wonderful. Too many times had Gavin responded to a caller concerning suspicious activity and found an abandoned building, evidence of Red Ice, and a CyberLife housekeeper android drained of blue blood. It had scared the shit out of him the first time, but he got used to it.

During the days of the Red Ice raids, Gavin responded to a call that went sideways, landing him in the hospital for a few weeks. Hank, Fowler, and Tina all visited, and when the bandage was finally taken off of his nose, Tina told him that the scar made him look “badass”. The other scar, on his shoulder, remained hidden.

When he got out of the hospital, he returned to the precinct, and was shocked when he found people with lights in their heads standing at the back wall of the bullpen.

Not people. _Plastics._ They were replacing cops with _androids,_ courtesy of his step-brother (some sort of publicity stunt, Gavin was _sure_ of it). Almost a decade ago, Gavin had left his family behind, but they still seemed to be chasing him.

Whatever. It just meant he needed to get promoted _faster._

Hank was promoted to lieutenant for his leadership with the Red Ice raids, making him the youngest lieutenant in Detroit history.

Hank had a kid - Cole. He brought him around the precinct once, with his wife carefully watching to make sure the baby wasn’t in danger. They let Gavin hold him, cracking plenty of jokes about Gavin being the one to drop the kid (which Gavin didn’t find very funny), but he took the baby gently and cooed at him. “Hey, little guy.”

Cole cooed back, then lifted an imprecise hand and smacked it on Gavin’s cheek, his bright green eyes locked onto Gavin’s face.

Tina was cackling. “At least _somebody_ likes your face.”

Gavin shot a half-hearted glare at Tina, but the look was interrupted by another light smack on the face from Cole. Tina’s laughter doubled, then turned to wheezing when Cole joined in the laughter.

Finally, _finally_ , Gavin was promoted to detective. Tina was offered a position as well, but she declined, saying that she liked helping people as a first responder.

While Gavin was sad that they wouldn’t be partners anymore, he wasn’t about to give up his promotion - and Tina told him he shouldn’t. She knew this was the only thing he wanted for _so long_ , and she wasn’t about to make him pass on it. Besides - she wanted to become a sergeant, maybe a precinct captain. Gavin wanted to go the detective route, maybe join the FBI eventually. Maybe. They were simply on different tracks, and it had been fortunate that their paths lined up for as long as they had.

They would still hang out at the precinct, and try to take lunch breaks together. And it wasn’t like he was never going to see her again - they worked in the same building, after all.

Gavin underestimated how alone he would feel without Tina by his side.

Hank had been an almost surrogate father-figure before, but once Gavin was promoted, he became even more of a mentor to him. He was relaxed, he was quick witted, and he was serious about his job. He and Fowler were always busy with the Red Ice Task Force, but Gavin was often included when they were discussing leads.

A huge bust led to a promotion to lieutenant for Fowler, as well. It seemed like they were really getting a handle on the Red Ice situation in Detroit.

Gavin’s first partner was a man named Ross Thatcher. He was fine, but obviously a few years from retirement. His inability to work with new technology on crime scenes nearly drove Gavin up a _wall._

But it was fine. He had made detective. This was what he wanted. He could just do it by himself.

He started seeing a therapist more regularly.

Hank started bringing Cole in, once every few months. Since his wife also worked, Cole had to spend a lot of time at their workplaces after school. Of course, Hank was incredibly busy.

Despite Gavin's increasingly icy attitude, Hank trusted him with babysitting duty. Gavin always complained when Hank first brought Cole over, but by the end of Cole’s time at the precinct, they were getting snacks from the vending machine and picking locks for fun. (Hank hadn’t been too happy about that last one, but hey, that’s what Gavin had been doing at Cole’s age.)

Occasionally, Cole and Gavin would manage to convince Hank to let them ride around in the police car. Cole loved looking at the buttons and hearing the siren from a new perspective (and, of course, he loved sitting in the front seat).

Gavin loved that kid. He couldn’t help but wonder if Elijah ever saw him as he saw Cole - someone to goof off with, someone to protect…

Hank didn’t come into work one day.

Or the next.

After a week, Gavin finally decided to say something. He crossed the bullpen and tapped on Fowler’s desk. The man looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. “What, Reed?”

“Where’s Anderson?” Gavin asked.

The annoyed expression on Fowler’s face was gone in an instant, replaced with surprise, then with something softer. He pushed himself away from his desk and motioned for Gavin to follow. “Come on. Let’s go grab coffee.”

Fowler told him about the accident over their drinks.

Neither of them actually drank anything.

Gavin went through the rest of the week in a haze, the words _“Cole is dead”_ echoing distantly in the back of his mind on repeat. Many times, he thought about sending Hank a text, or popping by his place to offer condolences - but the latter was a breach of privacy, and the former wouldn’t work because Hank barely knew how to work his terminal at his desk.

While Hank was gone, Fowler was promoted to captain, and Gavin's partner Thatcher handed in his retirement notice. He promised to stick around until Hank was back on the force, but after that, he was out.

And Gavin would have to find a new partner.

Again.

Hank came into work for his first day back, and he looked a little less with-it than usual. His hair wasn’t combed back, the top button of his shirt was left undone, and there were bags under his eyes. To his credit, he looked halfway put together. It was too bad Gavin was acutely aware of what drunkenness looked like.

He had thought Hank was different from his father, but as Hank’s alcohol problem grew worse and Fowler changed from a friend to a stern boss, Gavin couldn’t help but remember the countless times he was beaten after he returned from school or wherever he’d been. Slowly, Hank and his father didn’t seem like two completely different people anymore. He defaulted to a glare whenever Hank was in the vicinity. Tina picked up on his newfound hostility, but didn’t say anything.

Meanwhile, Gavin was reassigned to over a dozen new partners in three years, and each of them asked to be transferred to another precinct after a few months of having to put up with him.

With his work life deteriorating around him, Gavin kept his eyes on his goal: promotion. He had about five years left to make lieutenant and be the youngest lieutenant instead of Hank, who grew more and more undeserving of his honors everyday.

The one bright side? Hank now hated those plastics as much as he did. Before, Hank had been relatively indifferent about the androids. He talked about how creepy they were, but that was about it. However, as years passed, Hank’s desk became filled with anti-android stickers.

He may have been alone in every other sense of the word, but at least Gavin wasn’t alone in ideology.

And then CyberLife sent a fucking plastic detective.

Gavin hated that his first thought upon seeing it was of Cole, but it was a little hard not to compare the two when their freckles were in the same places. The only difference was in age. While Cole had never been an adult, this thing had never been a child. Really, the two had nothing in common.

He knew Hank thought the same thing, though. Every time the bot was looking elsewhere, Hank would get this pensive look on his face, like he was trying to sort through reality just by staring at what was in front of him.

The plastic was _nothing_ like Cole. Cole was all smiles and goofing off, with a quick sarcastic wit that he had begun to pick up from his dad. Cole would run over to Gavin’s desk and hug him as soon as he entered the bullpen after school. 

RK-whatever-the-fuck barely moved at all. It was stubborn, it was manipulative, and it was definitely going to give Hank a heart attack if it didn’t stop dying in front of him.

And then the androids went fucking crazy and revolted in downtown Detroit.

Gavin almost wanted to reconnect with Eli just to punch him in the mouth.

After the Constitutional Amendments went through and the ownership of androids was outlawed, Hank was back in the precinct, still working with that plastic detective. It always stayed near him, like some sort of puppy. And _worse_ , Hank didn’t seem to mind. The stickers on his desk disappeared, and he started coming into work on time. The smell of alcohol grew less and less frequent.

Gavin thought he would be happy once Hank stopped drinking, but the mental image of his father was replaced with his mother, who had pushed him away in favor of Eli when they were both young. He had made a new home for himself at the DPD, but he guessed he should have known that this would happen sooner or later.

And so, he decided to make the plastic’s time at the DPD as hellish as possible.

It didn’t feel pain, as he discovered when Gavin somehow managed to trip it. It simply righted himself again, glanced coolly in Gavin’s direction, and continued on its way.

It must have told Hank, because the lieutenant grabbed him by the arm when he came out from his shift one day.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Hank demanded.

“You’re asking _me_ that?” Gavin scoffed, wrenching his arm away from Hank. “You’re one to talk.”

“Connor never did anything to you,” Hank said. “He's trying to fit in-”

“ _He?!_ ” Gavin barked a laugh. “It’s not around, Anderson. You don’t have to humor it-”

The only reason Gavin didn’t get a punch to the face was because he had seen Hank pull the same move on Perkins three months ago. He ducked and stumbled backwards, slipping slightly on the icy sidewalk but otherwise uninjured.

Deciding not to risk a confrontation with Hank, lest their disciplinary files get any thicker, he took off towards his car.

Hank shouted after him, “Talk about him that way ever again and I won’t miss!”

Gavin knew Hank had mentioned something to Fowler afterwards, because as soon as Gavin entered the bullpen the next morning, Fowler roared his name from across the room. “Reed! My office!”

Grumbling, Gavin dropped his jacket off by his chair and went straight to Fowler’s office. Hank and his plastic pet were inside, with Hank sitting in a chair in front of Fowler’s desk and the plastic standing behind him. When Gavin entered the room, Hank wouldn’t look at him, but Connor met his gaze straight-on, not even blinking. It probably turned off its blinking function or something, just to mess with him.

“Sit down,” Fowler ordered. Gavin knew better than to argue.

Once Gavin had taken the other chair, Fowler turned his monitor around so that the occupants of the room could see what was on it. “Hank and Connor have been working for the past month on tracking down Blue Ice - the newest street drug from Thirium. In high doses, it’s fatal to deviants and h-”

“Wait, this shit’s an android problem?” Gavin interrupted. “The fuck did you call me in here for? You know I’m humans-only.”

“If you would let me _finish,_ ” Fowler bit out, “I was about to say _humans_. It’s a drug that both humans and deviants can take - humans in lower quantities than deviants, but the deviants are still dying from it. Some other ingredient that’s targeting the Lithium in their power storage."

Fowler pulled up a picture on his monitor - a corpse of a middle-aged man, a steady flow of blood and other organic gunk on his upper lip. “You recognize this?”

“Yeah," Gavin said. “Case last week. Forensics said his brain was mush… That’s Blue Ice?”

Fowler nodded. “Yep. You mention in your report seeing someone in the area acting suspicious. Do you think you could identify him again if you saw him?"

Gavin shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“Then you’re going with Connor on a stakeout immediately,” Fowler said.

Gavin saw Hank tense out of the corner of his eye. “Wait-" Hank tried.

Fowler plowed on. “In their investigation, Connor and Hank found a possible hideout for distributors-”

“No, no way,” Gavin insisted, shooting another look of disgust at Connor. “I’m not going with that thing, and I’m _never_ going to spend time with it on a fucking stakeout for a case that isn’t even mine-!”

“I am tired of your bitching,” Fowler snapped. “You are going to partner with Connor on his stakeout, and that’s final.”

Gavin stood up in a hurry. “You can’t-!”

Hank threw up his hands. “For fuck’s sake-”

Connor took a small step forward. “Captain-”

“Shut the fuck up, all of you, or you’ll be beat cops tomorrow!" Fowler interrupted. The detectives fell silent, and Fowler took a minute to recollect himself. "Gavin, you come back after ten hours and trade places with Hank. Connor doesn’t need a break, so we’ll keep you two rotating shifts so that we have eyes on it at all times. Don’t stop your stakeout until you find something useful. Dismissed.”

* * *

Gavin wasn’t sulking. He _wasn’t._ He was just...sitting in the passenger seat silently, drinking his coffee and resolutely staring out the window, away from Connor.

Not sulking.

Connor sat in the driver’s seat, moving a quarter between his fingers soundlessly as he watched the building.

Gavin took another drink of his coffee- oh, that’s right. Empty. With a sigh, he shoved the cup into the cupholder and returned to staring out the window.

“Whenever you would like to break for lunch, let me know,” Connor said.

Gavin scoffed. “Thought you didn’t need to eat."

“I don’t,” Connor said. “Though I can consume small amounts of organic material-”

“Wasn’t a conversation starter,” Gavin cut him off.

Connor fell silent.

For a few moments.

“I believe I know why you dislike me, detective,” Connor said.

Gavin rolled his eyes so hard, he had to tip his head back and give himself a second to recover.

Connor went on. “I know you are related to Elijah Kamski. My theory is that something happened between the two of you that encouraged you to be against the creation and presence of androids-”

“Don’t you have a _mute button?”_ Gavin grumbled, gritting his teeth. He stared at the building they were watching, glaring at it-

_Oh, that’s interesting._

Gavin sat up and peered at the building, searching the windows and...yep. Someone was moving boxes from the windows deeper into the warehouse.

“I’m _attempting_ to repair our relationship to at least a neutral status," Connor replied in an equally annoyed tone. “We do not have to be _friends,_ but I would prefer it if-”

“Movement inside,” Gavin said shortly, then opened the passenger door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He heard the driver’s side door open and close, but he didn’t wait for Connor before he was crossing the street, approaching the building’s side door.

Before he could open the metal door, Connor grabbed Gavin’s elbow. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“They know you’re onto them, dumbass,” Gavin whispered back, jerking his arm out of Connor’s grip. “They’re packing up and leaving. Maybe they know we’re staking this place out. We need another lead before they take everything and disappear.”

“But we don’t have a warrant,” Connor countered. “Our presence on the premises is illegal.”

“Yeah, well, so’s theirs,” Gavin said, and without a second’s hesitation, he twisted the door handle and slipped into the building. Knowing that Connor would follow him (just as it always followed Hank), Gavin didn’t bother with trying to close the door quietly. Sure enough, the absence of a door slam indicated that Connor was right behind him.

Gavin drew his pistol and loaded a round into the chamber as quietly as he could, then moved further into the warehouse.

He recognized the smell. He’d been on enough Red Ice drug raids that he knew the scent of Thirium and extracted preservatives. There were stacks of boxes and crates scattered around the room, which seemed to be devoid of life for the moment. Either there were just a few guys here packing up and they went outside, or there were a lot of guys and the warehouse was a lot bigger than they thought.

Connor appeared at his side, its own firearm out as well. Gavin pointed to the right, and Connor nodded and headed off in that direction.

Gavin inched forward, scanning the area. The smell was getting stronger, coming somewhere from his left. He started moving towards it, listening intently to make sure no one could sneak up on him.

He went over to the nearest box and risked a glance inside, noting how the smell was more potent when he flipped open the lid. His eyes fell on countless packets of blue crystals, looking like crushed rock candy (only, _this_ shit would make your cerebral cortex melt out your sinuses). If he could just sneak a box out-

The only warning he had was the scuff of a shoe on the concrete floor behind him. He started to turn around, but something slammed against the back of his head. He stumbled into the boxes, falling to the ground.

He was out before he even hit the floor.

* * *

Gavin woke with a jerk. He blinked, aware of a sharp pain in the base of his skull and something wet and sticky on the back of his neck. Slowly, the room around him came into focus.

Ah...shit.

He was definitely not in the warehouse, that was for sure. The air was significantly colder, and the walls were cement. Someone had tied Gavin's ankles to a metal folding chair with rope and bound his hands behind his back with zip ties, which cut into his wrists even when he _wasn’t_ pulling to test their strength. Apart from the obvious head wound (and likely concussion), he was fairly uninjured. A single hanging light bulb illuminated the space, casting flickering light onto the only other occupant of the room.

Connor sat in another chair, similarly tied up across from him. Thirium leaked from a fissure along its hairline, trailing down its jaw. Its LED flickered yellow. “Detective Reed? Are you alright?”

“Fucking hell,” Gavin grumbled. The light was slowly becoming more bearable. So...maybe not _that_ bad of a concussion. That was lucky. The asshole that knocked him out must have hit a pressure point or something.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Connor said.

“What happened?” Gavin asked, trying to move his head to a position that wouldn’t cause the injury to flare up.

“We were kidnapped.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Kinda looking for a little more information than that,” Gavin snapped.

Connor ignored his snark. “I believe we are underground somewhere. My satellite connection has not been blocked, but it is not as strong as it-”

The door at the top of the wooden staircase opened, and Connor stopped talking. Two pairs of combat boots moved down, slowly revealing two buff men in heavy coats. One wore a dark beanie, the other had a neck gaiter mask that sat unused around his collar.

Neck Gaiter shoved his hands into his pockets. “Afternoon, detectives.”

Gavin watched Neck Gaiter carefully, trying to figure out where in the hierarchy this guy was. Judging from how Beanie stood back and crossed his arms, Neck Gaiter was probably higher up than this guy, but determining more than that was next to impossible.

“I’ve got a few questions,” Neck Gaiter continued. “I'm sure you’re pretty used to interrogations, right? Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You clubbed me in the head,” Gavin snarled. “We _already_ have a fucking problem.”

“Then I hope, for your sake, you don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” Neck Gaiter grinned, showing off dirty teeth.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Connor said. “He was just brought in to help last minute.”

Neck Gaiter blinked in surprise. “Three months and they’ve already let plastics back into the DPD? We must be giving you more of a run for your money than I thought.”

“If you think we are simply going to tell you the details of our investigation, you are going to be disappointed,” Connor said, clearly analyzing the two men carefully. “He knows nothing, and I don’t feel pain.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that last one,” Neck Gaiter said, moving closer to Connor and pulling something out of his pocket. Beanie moved forwards and grabbed Connor by the hair, jerking his head to the side.

“Get away from me,” Connor growled, but there was a note of panic in his voice. “You will be charged with assault of an officer- Don’t come any closer-!”

Neck Gaiter ignored Connor and jammed whatever was in his pocket into Connor’s neck. Gavin couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but he could see Connor spasm behind Neck Gaiter’s body.

“The fuck are you doing?” Gavin called.

“Shut up,” Neck Gaiter called back. The thug turned his attention back to Beanie. “Give it a second, then test it.” With that, Neck Gaiter backed away and went back up the stairs, leaving Gavin and Connor alone with Beanie.

Beanie moved so that he was in front of Connor. He glanced over the android, clearly not affected by Connor’s glare.

Occasionally, Connor flicked his gaze over to Gavin, allowing Gavin to see just how much fear was in his eyes-

No. Not fear. It’s a plastic. It doesn’t feel anything.

Beanie punched Connor across the face, causing the android’s head to snap back from the force. He was barely given a moment to recover before Beanie grabbed his jaw. “Did you feel that?”

Connor glared at Beanie.

Out of _nowhere_ , the man dug a thumb into Connor’s eye socket. Connor screamed.

 _“Fuck!"_ Gavin spat a curse and looked away, shutting his own eyes tightly in a feeble attempt to block out the sound of Connor screaming. He could hear the layer of static underneath the sounds of agony, his voice-box crackling in protest. Of course it would - androids weren’t designed for _screaming._ Why the fuck would he be crying out? It didn’t help their case if the kidnappers thought they could torture him for information.

Unless he had been bluffing about not feeling anything, or unless Neck Gaiter had done something to turn on some sort of “pain” nerves or something.

Could he feel pain?

Could _it_. Could _it_ feel pain. And of course the answer was no. It’s a plastic. It…can't feel.

Finally, the screaming stopped, dying off into harsh breathing. Gavin opened his eyes just in time to see Beanie toss something to the side. Trailing a streak of blue across the floor, it rolled to a stop by Gavin’s foot, and he had to swallow back bile. A small white ball with a dark brown spot on it stared up at him: Connor’s _eye_.

“Hey, asshole!” Gavin yelled. Beanie looked back over his shoulder at him. “He's not the one heading up the investigation. What, you think the DPD would put a fucking _bot_ in charge?”

Beanie frowned in his direction, confused. Connor looked up at Gavin, blue blood running down his cheek from what Gavin would assume was an empty socket - for now, the deviant kept his eye closed. “N-No,” Connor said. “He's not… I’m the-”

“Shut it, tin can,” Gavin snapped. “I’m the one you should be focusing on, so leave him alone.”

Beanie moved closer. “Why should I believe you? You just want to protect the plastic.”

“ _Me?!”_ Gavin sputtered. “Are you fucking- Let’s get two things straight here. One, if it came down to my life or the plastic’s, it’d be me. Every time. And two, you shouldn’t have come closer.”

Gavin kicked off the ground, pushing the chair back enough to slip his ankle restraints off the leg of the chair. He swung his foot up in the air, nailing Beanie on the chin and knocking him out cold before he even hit the ground. He freed his other leg in much the same way, then looked over to Connor. “You got a pocket knife?”

“In my forearm,” Connor said.

Gavin nodded, then carefully lifted himself off of the chair, trying to make as little noise as possible. Even if they hadn’t heard the sound of Beanie hitting the floor, that didn’t necessarily mean they wouldn’t hear the clatter of a metal folding chair. He managed to stand up with little noise.

Now the fun part.

He pulled his arms back as much as possible, then jerked his wrists down. The zip ties snapped, and, though his wrists would surely be a little red, he was no worse for wear.

Trying not to think about it too much, he picked up Connor’s eye and stepped over the unconscious henchman on the floor, moving across the room to Connor’s side.

He slipped the eye into his jacket pocket. “The knife?”

“My right arm, your left,” Connor instructed.

Gavin moved behind Connor and crouched, spying the small compartment by Connor’s wrist where a handle was poking out. He pulled it out and, sure enough, a pocket knife slid out of the hidden slot.

“They...did something,” Connor said. “I think it’s a virus. It will take me awhile to identify it and delete it, but if you could remove the USB they put in the back of my neck…”

Gavin looked up and spotted the crude device jammed into a port at the base of Connor’s hairline. He yanked it out and tossed it aside, nearly missing the way Connor flinched. Choosing not to comment on it, Gavin turned back to Connor’s restraints, taking care not to cut the plastic’s hands. Not because he didn’t want to hurt him - that'd be ridiculous, plastics don’t feel pain - but because...something just told him to be careful. Maybe his instincts from his years of hanging out with Cole, or from dealing with victims…

He chose to not think about it.

He took the eye out of his pocket and handed it back to Connor. “You can put it back in yourself. I’m not helping. That’s fucking disgusting.”

“Okay,” Connor agreed, taking the eye. Gavin hastily averted his eyes, focusing on cutting the ties on Connor’s ankles and trying to ignore the sickening _POP_ and camera-shutter clicking that he assumed was coming from Connor’s eye.

_Gross._

Gavin handed the knife back to Connor, relieved to find two brown eyes looking at him. Blue blood was still on Connor's cheek, but it didn’t look like he was in danger of bleeding out. Still, Gavin found himself asking, “Can you stand?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “My optical unit still needs to be calibrated, but I can move.”

“What about communications?” Gavin asked, moving to the base of the staircase and looking up to stand guard. "Can you contact anyone?”

“Not down here,” Connor said. “My GPS connection is unreliable, and my senses are...fuzzy. I should be back to normal soon, and if we get outside, I should be able to connect to satellites easier.”

“Alright,” Gavin said, starting to pace. They had a limited number of choices. They could wait down here, in the basement, or go outside and make a break for it, wherever they were.

“Alright,” he decided. He grabbed Connor by the jacket and pulled him towards the stairs.

“What-?” Connor hissed.

“You said you need to get outside, we’re going outside,” Gavin said quietly, starting to sneak up the stairs. “And you said you can’t see very well, so you’re just gonna have to trust me.”

Connor grimaced. “Great.”

“I didn’t _ask_ to be kidnapped with you, asshole,” Gavin returned.

They reached the top of the stairs and stopped. “Can you hear anything?” Gavin whispered.

Connor shook his head, LED spinning a dim yellow. “The virus is inhibiting my senses," he whispered back. "You can tell better than I can. Though, there’s a 32% probability of there being no one in sight.”

“Good enough for me,” Gavin said, and he pushed open the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I will redeem this rat man iF iT kILLS mE-
> 
> How does it fit with the prompt? Well...uh... Red Ice. Yes.
> 
> Part two coming soon... 👀
> 
> It's already halfway done so it won't be long, but I do have some huge AU projects I'm working on so it might be early next month. I'm also trying to get another chapter of Berceuse out but no promises on that one, unfortunately 😭
> 
> BUT! Be on the lookout for my next two works! One is a DND AU for DBH, and one is my secret Santa gift 👀 so expect that one soon!


End file.
